


Even if we can't find heaven, I'll walk through hell with you

by bambejo



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-08-14 18:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8023648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bambejo/pseuds/bambejo
Summary: “Tyrion.”“You really are a sight for sore eyes. A sight that I hadn’t in my wildest dreams imagined that I’d see ever again.”For the first time since Daenerys arrived at Winterfell, it seemed as if Sansa Stark didn’t know what to say.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Game of Thrones.

Daenerys would lie if she said that she wasn't in awe. Throughout her long journey she‘d heard many stories of Winterfell by her companions, but nothing could've prepared her for the reality. The winter had destroyed most of what was in it's path, yet Winterfell stood proud and hadn't let the snows crush it under their weight. It's lady stood even prouder. The Dragon Queen had expected to meet with the so-called King in The North, but just days before her arrival she'd gotten word that Jon Snow had left to defend the Wall from the invading army of white walkers. Daenerys planned to do the same, despite several of her advisers being against that decision, but not before she had met with the girl that was almost as famous as her bastard brother.

Sansa Stark truly was something. The tales of her beauty didn't do her justice and even though Daenerys had the largest army in Westeros and three dragons, the look in Sansa's eyes made her feel as if all that still wouldn't be enough to defeat her. The Mother of Dragons simply couldn't read the girl before her. Her face gave out the same pain that she sometimes saw on the faces of the slaves she'd freed, but in her blue eyes there was also a force that was greater than the one keeping the walls of Winterfell standing.

It took Daenerys a few seconds to realize that Missandei was introducing her to the Stark girl. When she was done, Sansa bowed gracefully, _like a queen_ , Daenerys thought.

"It's a pleasure to welcome you to Winterfell, Your Grace."

Daenerys saw Tyrion Lannister smirk from the corner of her eye and she wondered what could've amused him in what she thought were sincere words.

"Thank you, Lady Stark. Allow me to introduce my friends and advisers -"

"Oh, there's no need for that child," Lady Olena interrupted. "Sansa here knows us all very well."

The Stark girl's lips lifted slightly, but the smile never managed to reach her eyes. "I'm terribly sorry for your family, Lady Olena. Queen Margery and Sir Loras have been nothing but good to me."

"Spare me the grief, Sansa. It doesn’t suit your new steel armor. It’s marvelous what you’ve made of yourself despite being under Cersei’s thumb for years.”

Sansa politely nodded and her look shifted. “Theon.”

Theon Greyjoy slowly approached the Stark she wolf and dropped in her feet. That made Daenerys realize something that had been lost on her until that moment – Westeros might be her kingdom by right, but Theon and probably the whole North had a deeper respect for Sansa Stark than they would ever have for her.

Sansa took Theon’s hand and made him rise so she could envelop him in a hug. That pain that Danny had seen in Sansa’s eyes was now clogging the air and she felt sick to her stomach despite knowing only a speck of what had happened to the two years ago. They whispered in each other’s ears, completely ignoring the rest of the room for a few seconds before Theon took a few steps back from the girl, but still remained at her side.

Sansa’s eyes flashed to the person behind Danny. “Lord Varys.”

“My Lady, I must say that you look more beautiful than ever. As much as you have dazzled me, I couldn’t help but notice that your friend Littlefinger is nowhere to be found.”

Sansa’s jawline hardened. “Lord Baelish is no friend of mine and he is at his rightful place at the Vale. But I’m sure you already knew that, my Lord.”

“Of course,” Varys said and bowed respectfully.

Daenerys noticed something then. Her Hand of The Queen hadn’t spoken a word and that was a truly frightening thing. Sansa seemed to be following the same train of thought because her bright blues were frozen on the little man.

“Sansa,” he said at last.

“Tyrion.”

“You really are a sight for sore eyes. A sight that I hadn’t in my wildest dreams imagined that I’d see ever again.”

For the first time since Daenerys arrived at Winterfell, it seemed as if Sansa Stark didn’t know what to say. For a second the mother of dragons wondered if there was something that everyone had forgotten to mention. She knew that the girl had been held captive for years by the Lannisters and a dangerous thought crept in her mind. Was it possible that Tyrion had a part in the torture that the Stark girl had endured? No. She didn’t look frightened by the dwarf. She looked… regretful.

“Tyrion, I- “

“Don’t worry, it’s water under the bridge. If I were you, I would’ve probably left myself be framed and trialed for murder too.”

“It wasn’t like that! I didn’t know what was happening until I was long gone. You… you made a promise to me once, do you remember?”

Tyrion nodded.

“Would you believe me that I spent every night of my time with Ramsey wishing that I had trusted in your words instead?”

Tyrion gave another nod.

“Sansa… That promise still stands if you would accept it.”

“I do. And I promise that you will always have a place in my home, whether or not we’re still husband and wife.”

Daenerys felt as if she were slapped in the face. She was right after all, the people surrounding her did hide a secret about Tyrion Lannister and Sansa Stark.


	2. Chapter 2

Tyrion was frustrated. He was frustrated with the Dragon Queen and her wishes to march on the Wall without any plan or preparation whatsoever. And while he agreed that when it came to ice zombies there wasn't much you could do to prepare, he still felt as if it was a mistake to let Daenerys go. He was frustrated with his companions, each having their own opinion on every matter and an unwillingness to back down. But most of all, Tyrion was frustrated with his wife. Actually, he wasn't sure if she was still his wife since that snake Littlefinger had her married to the vicious bastard Ramsey.  But in his heart, he thought of her as his wife and a part of him had expected to see the same fragile and broken girl. Needless to say, the Sansa that Tyrion remembered was long gone. 

She wasn't a prisoner anymore, she was the lady of her home, with the North behind her back. She wasn't afraid of being brutally beaten or even murdered just for speaking her mind. She was strong and fierce, like her mother, but she hadn't forgotten that lies and deception were the ways to play the game. Tyrion saw the real Sansa, but the real her possessed a ruthlessness that Cersei had had and manipulative ways that she could've only learned from Littlefinger. As much as he had figured out in such a short time, Tyrion still couldn't quite understand this wife of his. People had always underestimated her and back then they might have had a good reason, but now Tyrion was certain that underestimating Sansa Stark was a grave mistake. 

Tyrion spent his days in Winterfell in as much solitary and peace as he could because he knew that if he found himself in a room with Sansa he would be compelled to ask her questions that she wouldn't answer and that he, frankly, didn't want to know the answer to. So he avoided her, spoke to her only out of necessity and spent the rest of his time cursing himself for not having the guts to walk up to the girl and just talk to her. 

He couldn't avoid her forever though and one afternoon Sansa found him in the Maester’s library. She looked like a creature from another world. Her long hair wasn't braided and was cascading over the gray wolf furs that she was wearing. The glow from the fireplace was casting a light on her face and for the first time she didn't look like a child to Tyrion. She was a woman, delicate and beautiful, and he felt the very familiar taste of self-consciousness about his own looks whenever he was around her. 

Sansa approached him and sat on the chair opposite of his, crossing her delicate hands in her lap. 

"I'll have to admit that the library here isn’t nearly as impressive as the one in the Red Keep," she said. 

Tyrion gulped and shook his head. "No, it's quite impressive actually. I found a lot of great books that I hadn't even heard of."

Sansa smiled and gazed into the fire. „I meant what I said."

Tyrion frowned. 

"About you having a place here. You don't have to sneak around the halls like a thief."

Tyrion felt a blush forming on his cheeks. He'd thought that his ways of avoiding Sansa were quite good, but clearly she'd picked up on them. 

"Did you? I don't remember you being such a good liar. Like how you lied to Daenerys the other day when you bowed to her and pledged your services. You didn't want to do it, and yet it was executed so convincingly that I almost believed you."

Sansa gave him a pointed look. "I don't want any more of my people to die because of a mad ruler."

"She's not Joffrey or Cersei or..."

"Ramsey?"

"Or Ramsey, yes... I'm sorry. Theon told me some of it."

"Don't be. I was stupid. A stupid girl who never learnt."

"You're not stupid, Sansa. The fact that you're standing here in front of me in one piece is a testament to that."

Sansa didn't look at him, but continued to look fixedly into the fire. She was silent for minutes before she stood up and began walking towards the door. If Tyrion hadn't been so desperate for her to say anything to him, he would've completely missed her final words. 

"I'm not in one piece. "


	3. Chapter 3

Tyrion kicked off his boots and slowly began undressing. He was tired. They’d gotten word from Jon Snow that things were getting worse at the Wall. He barely had any men left, and without help, he’d said that their nights were counted. Daenerys was going to leave for the Wall in the morning and Tyrion was to stay at Winterfell. With Sansa. He couldn’t believe that he was dreading it. 

The door opened, the sound taking him away from his thoughts, and he turned, startled.

“Forgive me, I should’ve knocked. I wanted to see if you needed anything.”

Tyrion was about to assure her that it was alright, but he noticed how her eyes were fixated on the scar across his face. He felt a sudden urge to cover himself because the memories of the looks filled with disgust Sansa used to have whenever she saw him came rushing back, but the more he looked at her, the more he realized that for once she wasn’t repelled. Instead, her blues were filled with understanding.

“I have a servant, you know,“ Tyrion said.

“Right. I should go.”

“Wait…” Tyrion sighed. “You can stay.”

Sansa nodded and hesitantly moved towards the bed. She sat next to him, close – but not too close. Her eyes were still glued to his face and Tyrion was sure that she would burn a hole in it. He didn’t know why he always felt so unsettled around her, but it was going to drive him mad.

Every nerve in Tyrion’s body was on edge as he tried to figure out what in the seven hells Sansa was doing when she took off her furs and began lifting her skirts. Then he noticed something. A nasty scar on her inner thigh. His first thought was that she’d somehow burned herself, but as he inspected the ugly formation on her silky leg, Tyrion found resemblance with the disfigurements he’d seen on Theon’s body.

“After the first few nights, I told myself that I wouldn’t cry, and scream, and beg anymore. That I would be strong and not give him the pleasure. He didn’t like that.”

Tyrion felt his body begin to shake. He was screaming in his head that he didn’t want to listen, but his mouth made no sound.

“When he saw that nothing he did would get me to react, he tied me to the bed. All that I remember was the cold blade grazing my skin before it began burning so much that I thought I would die. So I screamed. I screamed so loud, every wall in the castle must’ve shook from the force of it. I screamed until I couldn’t breathe.”

Sansa let the fabric fall down her legs and Tyrion couldn’t have been happier because he was certain that if he’d spent one more second looking at the evidence of what she’d gone through, the wine in his stomach would’ve ended up on the floor.

“I always thought that Joffrey and Cersei were the worst thing that’s happened to me, but I would rather spend the rest of my life being beaten and humiliated in the throne room if it would save me from this hell.”

“It’s over, Sansa. They’re dead, all of them. You are free and safe. Nobody is going to hurt you ever again.” Tyrion tried his best to give her an assuring smile and he reached out to hold her hand. It was as soft and gentle as he remembered it.

“You say that like you know, but you don’t.”

_I know that if you’d let me, I’d do everything in my power to make sure of it_ , he thought.

Sansa looked comfortable in the silence that followed, but he was anxious to say something, anything, to distract himself from the nightmarish images of what she’d just shared with him, and so he did. “Jon Snow is Lord of Winterfell now.”

Her lips turned upwards. “Yes, he is. I would’ve never gotten my home back if it weren’t for him.”

“I heard that he never would’ve won the battle if it wasn’t for you.”

“I didn’t do anything. The knights of the Vale were the ones who helped him,” she said, but her eyes showed gratefulness that he was giving her the recognition.

Tyrion noticed and continued speaking in a soft voice, “Still, you’re the last remaining Stark and he’s just a bastard.”

“He’s just as much a Stark as I am,” she said firmly. “And I don’t care about stupid titles anymore.”

“I do,” Tyrion admitted. “It feels nice to be Hand of the Queen and Lord of Casterly Rock.”

“Does that mean that sir Jaime...?”

“Give me some credit, Sansa. I might be a lot of things, but I wouldn’t kill my own brother.” _I did kill my sister._ “He never wanted anything to do with it, so he gave it to me.”

“I never got to properly know him, but Brienne has told me about the vow he took to my mother.”

Tyrion smiled, “Some days, I wonder if he’s a Lannister at all. He truly is the best of us.”

Sansa stood up from the bed and gave him one final look. “No, he isn’t.”

Only after she’d left the room did Tyrion realize that she’d let her hand sit in his the entire time.


	4. Chapter 4

Sansa didn't know for how long she'd been watching the candle in front of her slowly melt away. The crypts were the only place where she felt truly at peace these days. As a child she always found them scary and protested when Arya made her go there to play. The Godswood had been a far more pleasant place to seek solitude in, but she didn't believe in gods anymore, so there was no point to go. Sansa didn't believe that her family's spirits were in the crypts either, but it felt nice to stand next to their statues. Only the Lords of Winterfell were allowed to have ones, but she couldn't give a damn about foolish rules anymore so she'd ordered statues of her mother, Robb and Rickon to be made almost immediately after her and Jon had taken their home back from Ramsey. Not of Brann and Arya though, because no matter what anyone told her, Sansa wouldn't think them dead until she saw it with her own eyes.

The sound of footsteps broke the silence and Sansa turned around. Tyrion had a guilty look on his face after having realized that he was in a place where he probably didn't have a right to be, but didn't make a move to try and leave.

Sansa wasn't sure what to think or feel when it came to Tyrion. She certainly didn't hate him, but she didn't love him either. She was grateful to him for everything he'd done for her in King's Landing and she didn't mind his company. Talking to him was easier now that she wasn't a prisoner and didn't have to be constantly cautious of every word that came out of her mouth. And being his wife was the best thing for her at the moment, no matter how ridiculous their marriage was, because Tyrion was the Queen's hand and Sansa was as close to being a queen as she could get according to the North. She didn't have dragons that could scorch her enemies in a second, but she knew that Daenerys saw her and Jon as a possible threat, regardless of what she said to their faces. Sansa's holy union with Tyrion might turn out to be the thing that keeps her and Jon alive and she was in no rush end it. Perhaps even if Tyrion decides that he doesn't want to be her husband anymore, he would still make sure of her safety, but Sansa couldn't have blind faith that he would keep the promises he made at another place and a different time. And still, deep down, her heart told her that the Lannister who had snowed her nothing but kindness and who understood her pain better than anyone was her ally for life.

"Couldn't sleep?" she asked.

Tyrion nodded.

"I'll tell the servants to bring you essence of nightshade."

"Just as long as they don't pour it in my wine."

Sansa glowered. "I didn't kill Joffrey."

"I know, I was the one sentenced to death for it, if my memory isn't deceiving me. Your friends Little finger and Lady Olena were the true perpetrators."

"Littlefinger isn't my friend." Sansa was annoyed with how often she had to say that these days. "And if I recall correctly, you were the one who arrived here with Lady Olena."

Tyrion was smirking and Sansa expected another witty comeback, but something in his look altered. "Why did you trust him?"

Sansa bit her lip as regret and anger washed over her. "I didn't know."

"You could've trusted me instead."

"You said it yourself, you were sentenced to death. Cersei wouldn't have allowed me to live that long."

"But I'm alive, aren't I?"

Sansa's sight fogged with tears. Tyrion was right, as per usual, about everything. He was alive and she'd died a much crueler death than the one Cersei would've given her. She should've stayed in King's Landing just like she should've accepted Brienn's help the first time around. She shouldn't have trusted a word that came out of Littlefinger's mouth.

"I'm trusting you now."

"How many times must I tell you that Daenerys isn't like them, Sansa, " he said with a sigh."She's fighting next to your brother as we speak."

"Roose Bolton fought next to my brother," she said as she glanced at Robb's statue. "Why did you always try to help me? My family was at war with yours and I never showed you any kindness or compassion."

"Oh, but you did," Tyrion said. The look he gave her was a familiar one, but even after all the time that had passed, Sansa still couldn't read it. "And you're forgetting that nobody hates the Lannisters more than I do." They stayed silent for a while after that before he spoke, "I've noticed that you come here a lot. Why?"

Why, indeed? She'd wondered that too once she had realized that she spent hours with her family's statues every night and it hadn't taken her long to figure out the reason. "It's the only place in the castle that _**he**_ hasn't tainted." The only thing that wasn't ruined by his touch. Nothing made Sansa happier than to finally be free in her own home, but the ghost of Ramsey was following her everywhere she went.

Warm fingers slipped in between hers.

"I'll never let anything bad happen to you again, Sansa."

Tears spilled down her cheeks. She always cried when she was with Tyrion and she hated that her armor cracked so easily around him. But Sansa had come to notice that those days he was the only one who could make her feel anything but anger and agony. He made her feel safe, chased away the demons that haunted her. In her heart she wanted something that she used to dread. Sansa wanted to stay in the crypts with Tyrion forever. So she made an unspoken promise right then and there before her family that she would never leave him again.


End file.
